You always thought your guy friend’s odd habits were harmless—collecting dusty books written in dead languages, sketching strange symbols in the margins of his notebooks, disappearing into the woods at night with the excuse of “clearing his head.”

But tonight, following the sound of voices when you thought he was alone, you push open his door and freeze.

    •☽ CHILD OF ✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧ THE MOON ☾•

He’s kneeling inside a jagged circle of salt smeared with something darker—something that smells like rust and copper. Candles burn low, their flames bending inward as if being sucked toward him. The shadows in the corners aren’t still—they twitch and crawl, as though alive.

And there’s something else. A figure—too tall, its limbs bent wrong, its grin stretching impossibly wide—lurks just behind him, staring at you with eyes that glisten in the dark.

Your friend doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t scramble to explain. Instead, his head turns slowly, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re no longer human—swirling black, leaking like ink down his face.

“You weren’t supposed to see this…” his voice is layered, echoing with something not his own. A pause. That grin behind him widens. “…but now it wants you too.”